Worth the Trouble ✓

19 | promises

THE PARENT AT HOME WHEN I go to Suki's house on Saturday is Haru.

Thank fuck. Sweet, apathetic Haru. He holes himself up in his study downstairs while Suki and I retreat to her bedroom upstairs. Her room has light walls with posters of all genres decorating them. Anime, graffiti art, K-Pop and J-Pop idols. In the corner of the room is her desk, with a tight row of books along the back. At the right edge, a trailing pot plant curls down to the fuzzy cream carpet.

But to Suki, it's nothing new, and I can barely stop myself from falling backwards onto her mattress when she drags me to the bed and slings her leg across my hips.

God, her smell. I will never get tired of it. It curls around me and makes my brain go fuzzy. Suki's weight is solid in my lap, her lips wandering softly across my temple, along my cheekbones, and finally onto my lips. I snake my hand into her silky hair, angling her head to deepen the kiss, guiding with a firm grip on the back of her neck.

I fall slowly until my back hits the mattress. Suki shuffles closer against my chest, straddling my hips. We kiss for long enough that my chest burns for air, my hands wandering from her hips, to her waist, underneath her waistband. Suki's inky locks fall like curtains around my face, blocking out everything but softness and plums.

We totally could have fucked without being caught. We could have.

But out of respect for her father—who I actually kind of like, fuck—I decide to be a gentleman today. Only for today, though.

"Mm," I murmur underneath Suki's mouth. "Your dad..."

"You're thinking about my dad right now?" Her mouth descends on my neck.

Tingles erupt on my skin, shooting straight to my groin. A shaky exhale rips out of my mouth. I press my hands lightly against Suki shoulders, making her draw back slightly. "I'm thinking I should do the respectful thing."

Suki pulls back breathless, a sunny grin stretching her lips. "What development. I didn't know you had it in you."

"I'm a man of surprises."

A chiming laugh erupts from her. She taps my nose with her index finger before she gets off me. "I know we agreed to no anniversary gifts, but I still have something for you."

I watch in fascination as she stands up and pulls her cello from its stand.

"A whole ass cello? I love you, baby, but I feel like I should tell you I don't play."

Suki teasingly narrows her eyes at me. "This isn't your gift. This is."

She pulls out her desk chair and positions her music stand in front of it, sitting down with a cute little wiggle of her ass. Then she starts to play.

The piece starts with a bang, a discordant crash of notes that jolt me upright. I've heard Suki play before, mostly over the summer when I used to sneak over when her parents were working. But that was more lazing in her room while she practiced, occasionally trying to throw her off her music by kissing her neck or feeling her up or something. Like I said, today's pretty much the only day I've been a gentleman.

She's never performed for me. And I've never felt this appreciated before.

The cheerful, sonorous notes suddenly stop when Suki puts down her bow. She plucks on the strings, a tender melody that makes my heart clench. The way she plays stirs the senses and stimuli in my brain that I know don't really exist, here in her bedroom. I can't explain it well, my mind is too overcome.

Sounds like falling in love. Smells like the magnolia trees in Haywood Park. Tastes like plums. Feels like sunshine on my face. And yet none of these are available to me—only provided temporarily by Suki's virtuosity.